Page 46

Five Years Later

“Mommy, is Aunt Riley meeting us for ice cream?” Juju asks from the backseat. We just left Lake Julian Park, and I promised him we’d swing my the ice cream shop.

I glance through the rearview mirror to look at him.

From his facial features, down to his calm demeanor – he’s a living representation of his father and reminds me of him every single day.

Judah left me his twin – a permanent reminder for me to remember him by.

My heart expands every time I see him – when I wake him up in the mornings (more like when he wakes me up), when I read him bedtime stories (he loves books), or when we’re in the kitchen baking cookies.

He’s a little sponge for knowledge. His thirst for information is insatiable.

He wants to know everything. Adrienne says Judah was the same way when he was a child – had to know everything!

Juju already knows how to read. His kindergarten teacher is amazed at his level of intellect.

She tells me he’s gifted, but I already knew that.

At three months, he was holding his head up consistently.

When he was six months old, he started crawling.

At seven months, he was walking. He didn’t need one of those walkers or anything – just stood up one day on those little legs and walked from the living room to the kitchen.

At a year, he was almost using complete sentences.

By his second birthday, he knew how to write his name, could recite the alphabet and could do simple addition and subtraction.

He’s my miracle, genius baby. He’s his father’s child – that’s for sure!

“Mom-meeee—” he sings. “You’re daydreaming again...”

I grin and say, “I’m sorry, baby. I heard you, and no, Riley isn’t coming this time, Juju.”

“What about Auntie Luna, Tabitha, and Moriah? Are they coming, Mommy?”

“No, baby. It’s just me and you, this time.”

“You mean you and I, Mommy.”

I glance through the mirror to see that tight smirk on his face. “Yes, baby. You and I.”

“Well, maybe Daddy, too,” he says with his cute little voice.

I slow to a red light and look through the mirror again, watching my handsome prince stare out the window very observant and contemplative.

I say, “What did you say, Juju?”

“I said maybe Daddy will join us.”

“Baby, do you remember the conversation we had about Daddy?”

“Yes, I remember, but I saw Daddy last night. I dreamed about him.”

My heart warms when I think about how much he loves his father.

Judah left me a treasure trove of pictures on his phone – so many of us together and many of me – candid shots he took of me when I didn’t know he was taking pictures.

I love them all and shared them with Juju.

I even printed out pictures of Judah and had them framed on the wall in Juju’s room.

My son will know his father. I promised Judah I’d make sure of it, and in three years, he's going to get that beautiful letter Judah wrote to him. I always wondered why he wanted me to give it to him when he was eight. Now, I realize it’s because he knew his son would have the same insights and smarts he had at that age.

I say, “You dreamed about Daddy again, huh?”

“Yes. He—he told me to tell you hi.”

“Oh, wow. Thank you for letting me know.”

“You’re welcome, Mommy.”

Driving a little further down the street, I glance at Juju through the mirror and see his little inquisitive face. He asks, “Mommy, do I have a sister?”

“No, sweetheart. Your Dad and I had one child, and that’s you. Why do you ask?”

“I saw a girl in my dreams. She said she was in kindergarten, too.”

“That’s nice, baby, but you know, the thing about dreams is, while they feel real, they aren’t.”

“But I feel like they are, Mommy. Daddy even rubbed my head and told me I was a gentleman, whatever that means.”

I know I have to explain it to him. I have a habit of doing that. That brain of his is capable of comprehending a lot.

I say, “A gentleman is a nice man. It’s a man who has good manners and says things like please and thank you. He’s polite and treats everyone with respect. Does that sound like you?”

“Yes, but I’m still a boy! I guess that makes me a gentleboy.”

I chuckle and say, “Yes, it does. You know, your Daddy was a gentleman, too.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“How do you figure?” I ask, finding it hard to believe I’m talking to a five-year-old.

“Because you say I take after him, right Mommy? So, if I take after Daddy, that means whatever he was, that’s what I am.”

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

I turn into the parking lot at the ice cream shop. I can’t bring myself to return to the one where I met Judah – the one across from where his parents’ grocery store is, so I go to a different one a bit closer to Lake Julian Park.

I get out, open the back door. Juju unbuckles his lap belt and slides out of his booster seat, stepping out of the car. He stretches his little arms afterward and says, “After this, we’re taking a nap, Mommy.”

I chuckle. “You sound like an old man, Ju.”

He snickers while reaching for my hand. “Why do you always say that, Mommy?”

“Because you do.”

“I’m a five-year-old old man. Hee, hee, hee,” he laughs, covering his mouth with his free hand.

“Yes, you are.”

I open the door and we stand at the back of the line. It’s not too crazy, busy for it to be this hot. It’s only four o’clock. We probably beat the rush.

“Do you know what flavor you want today?” I ask Juju.

“Umm…” he taps his index finger on his top lip and says, “Surprise me, Mommy.”

“Okay.”

We get to the front of the line. I say, “Hi. I’ll have a scoop of blueberry cheesecake in a cone for the little one, and I’ll have a plain vanilla in a cone.”

“One scoop?” the worker asks.

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Alright.”

While we wait, I glance around the place, but Juju is looking at the little girl in line in front of us. He’s in a trance, staring while they both wait for their ice cream.

She finally gets hers and then walks off with her guardian. I hand Juju his and then get mine and pay. We head out the door and the little girl Juju was staring at is outside in tears.

“Aw,” I say, looking at her.

The man with her, I assume he’s her father, says, “She’s okay. She dropped her ice cream.”

“You can have mine,” Juju says insistently, handing her his.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, buddy,” the man says. “I was just about to go and get her another one.”

She smiles and accepts the ice cream, anyway.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” her father asks her.

“Thank you,” the girl says and blushes. She’s adorable.

Juju looks up at me and says, “Mommy, come closer.”

That’s what my baby says when he wants to whisper in my ear.

I lean down and he says, “That’s my sister.”

“Juju, she’s not—” I pause. I don’t want to crush his little dreams, so I say, “That was nice of you to do that for her.”

“Yeah, buddy,” the man says. “Thank you.” He strums Juju’s curly hair and says, “You’re a little gentleman already.”

Juju smiles brightly, looks way up into the man’s face, and says, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Oh, gosh,” I say, covering my mouth, my face red with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. His father died five years ago and he just—never mind.”

“No need for an apology. I get it. My wife died five years ago and babygirl here always talks about her like she’s still here. I’m Julius, by the way,” he says, extending his hand to me.

I accept his handshake while looking up at him for the first time during this little exchange, staring into light honey-colored eyes that nearly take my breath away. “It’s um…it’s nice—nice to, um…meet you, Ju—Julius.”

He pinches a smirk in the corner of his mouth and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I am. It’s just that, um—you remind me of someone.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep,” I say, nodding.

“Then how about you tell me all about it while I go get another cone for lil’ man here,” he says.

“Okay.”

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asks.

“Autumn.”

He smiles. “Like the season?”

A sensation of warmth overwhelms me. Tears threaten to come to my eyes, but I smile with the intention to keep them at bay.

My heart beams. The sun brightens. Sadness and happiness converge to create a weird dynamic in my mind and yet and still a calmness washes over me when I respond, “Yes. Like the season.”